Shining Armor
by WingedWolf121
Summary: Jesse really isn't a nice person, but that doesn't mean he's going to just walk away when he sees somebody trapped in an alley. He hardly expected that person to be Kurt Hummel. He wasn't expecting Kurt Hummel to be brilliant either. Kurt/Jesse
1. Chapter 1

_Title: Shining Armor_

_Disclaimer: …you see, were I to own glee, St. Hummel would be happening. Not that Blaine isn't supermegafoxyhot but Kurt and Jesse will always remain my OTP. Screw canon. Thus glee is not mine and the rambling disclaimer ends._

_A/N: Heh heh heh…don't shoot? I had a 3 day drive down to Florida and because my mind goes "whooopseeeloopadooo" (that makes more sense with gestures) and came up with a new story, I decided to post it rather than get my ass into editing together the next chapter of Second Weakness. Yay for new story!_

This town was not, Jesse decided, one he wanted to spend much time in. It barely had a passable nightlife, let alone one suited for the tastes of an exorbitantly talented young man looking for a one night stand, preferably male, who would be out of his hotel room by morning. Jesse needed to hit the road early next morning, and he didn't need some clingy "lover" who would hang around after sex. And Jesse was firmly against prostitutes-they might crop up in tabloids later on.

Oh well. Jesse was only in town for a night, and only because this town had an airport that took planes from LA. Jesse could wait until he got home and found a decent club. He sighed and began the walk back to his hotel.

Only to freeze in his tracks after walking only a few blocks. A couple of guys were blocking off the entryway to an alley, and he could make out another guy in the shadows. Jesse recognized that aggressive set to the shoulders. They had someone trapped in the alley.

Jesse hesitated, his protective urge and his self preservation instincts warring. A shriek of pain from the alley settled that particular argument, and Jesse ran towards the group. That cry was decidedly male, and having a cousin who was far less equipped to deal with homophobia made Jesse extremely aware of situations like this.

"Hey! _Hey!_" The two guys guarding the alley, clearly high school students, fled. Jesse skidded to a halt in front of the tallest one, a dark haired boy wearing a letterman jacket and sunglasses. Jesse waited a second to give him a chance to surrender.

"I guess fags stick together" Jesse, utilizing what a lifetime of near impossible choreography had taught him about speed and precision, kicked him in the kidneys. He followed that by jabbing him in the eye and kneeing his crotch.

Leaving the thoroughly defeated Neanderthal to flee, Jesse crouched down next to the boy who

_Ohgodthisisbad_

had his pants down around his ankles and was lying unmoving on the ground. He was facedown, as though one of his attackers had been the only thing holding him up. Judging by the bloodstains on what had to have been nice clothing once, that wasn't too improbable.

Jesse carefully grabbed one shoulder and turned him over, determinedly not looking at his fantastic ass. He was a terrible human being, enough people had assured him of that, but not nearly terrible enough to check out someone who was raped.

The boy was good looking certainly, with porcelain skin and light brown hair. Jesse leaned forward, frowning. Something about him was very familiar. He was sure it would hit him in a second…

"Kurt?" Kurt moaned. Jesse swore. The only thing he knew was that Kurt was a backup singer in New Directions, and that he needed medical attention _now._ Kurt groaned again. He had a huge cut somewhere on his head, judging by the blood drying in his hair. That meant possible concussion, which meant he was likely disoriented.

Jesse told himself to quit giving a bad diagnosis and dialed 911.

**St. Hummel, ftw.**

What the hell was Kurt doing in this town, two hours from Lima? Why the hell was he out alone at night without _somebody_ to watch his back? Jesse vaguely remembered Kurt being harassed at Lima, surely he was smart enough to know that homophobia ran rampant in the general public.

"Excuse me young man, but who should we be calling about your friend?" Jesse blinked at the nurse. She was young and pretty, but Jesse was too focused on the fact that he didn't even know Kurt's last name to notice.

Crap. He had wanted to be out of town that morning.

Jesse leaned against the wall, praying that Rachel Berry was still in his contacts. Apparently Kurt hadn't had his cell phone on him, and someone had to tell his parents their son was in the hospital.

_Somewhat insane ex._ Jesse rolled his eyes at what he'd labeled her as and dialed.

**St. Hummel ftw. **

"_What you sees not what you get_

_With you there's just no measurement_

_No way to tell what's real from what isn't"_

Rachel blinked and looked at her phone. It was two am on Saturday night, which meant it was her sing-along classic musical night, which meant none of her friends were stupid enough to call and interrupt.

_Douchebag._ Rachel gaped at the caller id. Kurt had changed it for her, insisting that if she insisted on keeping Jesse in her contacts she should at least give him his proper name. She hadn't thought about Jesse in months.

Which might have been a lie. He was after all, the best boyfriend she had ever had. Maybe he wanted to get back together, sing sappy duets and discuss show tunes!

Yeah, right.

More likely he wanted something. And she'd be damned if she would just let that manipulative bastard drag her back into that train wreck.

Hmpf. Rachel put her phone to silent. Jesse would have to beg if he wanted her to touch him with a ten foot pole.

**St. Hummel, ftw.**

"Goddammit Rachel, answer your phone!" Jesse growled. He gnashed his teeth and regretted letting his peers break her so cruelly. He hadn't even seen Kurt since the doctors took him away, and if he was seriously hurt…

Jesse did what he always did on the rare occasions he was in serious trouble. He called Shelby.

"Jesse! Why it's only been 34 days since you last called, the classes must have kept you busy!" He could hear Beth crying in the background. "Look as much as I appreciate you calling, Beth is teething and I really need to go-"

"Wait!" Jesse hoped his tone was desperate enough for her to not hang up. "Do you still have William Schuester's phone number?"

There was a pregnant pause, in which the only noise was Beth's wails.

"Why?" Shelby sounded more confused than worried. She wasn't used to Jesse actually sounding concerned about something.

"This kid Kurt, who was in that glee club, I found him getting…" Jesse swallowed. "Beat up. Rachel refuses to pick up her phone, and I don't know how to get in contact with his folks."

"The poor boy." There was a sound like shuffling papers and plastic clunking. "Give me a bit of time, I'll see if I still have it around here somewhere. I'll call you as soon as I find it." Shelby hung up. Jesse glared around the corridor, frustration building.

He _hated_ not doing anything. For about half an hour Jesse stalked around the waiting room, scaring various other waiters until his phone went off.

"_I'm bringing sexy ba-"_ Jesse had it to his ear before the first verse of Shelby's ringtone could finish. He'd set it as a joke, and an incentive to turn his phone off in public places.

"543-321-9054. And call me sometime to just talk about when you're going to visit me once you get home." Shelby hung up immediately after and Jesse dialed the number, feelings of gratitude towards his coach slash mentor slash surrogate parent coursing through him. As soon as he was back home, he'd volunteer to babysit that hellion Beth for free.

_Ring._

_Ring. _

_Ring. _

Will groggily opened his eyes. If Terri was calling him drunk at, he checked the time, 2:17 am, _again,_ he would find a way to sue. It had to be some form of harassment, or perhaps stalking.

"H'lo?"

"William Schuester? This is Jesse St. James." _That_ woke Will up fast enough. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes.

"What do you want, wait how did you even get this number?"

"Kurt is in the hospital, and I need to call his parents." Will blinked. He hadn't talked to Kurt in awhile, and when did his former student start hanging out with Jesse St. James?

"Did you just say that Kurt's in the _hospital_?" Jesse's voice turned irate.

"Did I stutter? How do I contact his parents?" Will could hear the "you brain damaged cretin" being repressed for the sake of cooperation. And as against giving information to the enemy as he was, Jesse did sound legitimately concerned.

"543-980-6677 is his dad's home phone, but how did Kurt wind up in the" there was a click as Jesse hung up. Will sighed and stared broodingly at the phone. He had a feeling that if he tried to call back Jesse wouldn't bother answering.

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring. _

"_Hi, this is the Hudmel household! For some reason neither, Burt, Carol or Finn can come to the phone, but if you leave a message someone will be sure to get back to you!" _

"_Mr. and Mrs. Hudmel, your son is in the hospital, at St. Jude's Medical Center in Dalton Township. This is Jesse St. James, an acquaintance, speaking. I cannot give you any details about his condition, as no doctor has come out to speak with me yet. Be well assured, I'll be harassing them about it in a moment. Call me back."_

Jesse leaned over the desk, shooting the receptionist his most intimidating glare. She shrank.

"Kurt Hudmel was brought in nearly an hour ago, and it would be most helpful for me to get some sort of information as to his condition." She squeaked, and Jesse lightened his glare up a bit. "Now."

"I-I'll go check." She bolted. Jesse sat down and called Will Schuester again.

_Ring._

_Ring._

"Hello?"

"His parents didn't pick up. You should go over and wake them up." Will sighed. As much as he dislike being ordered about by someone who was probably 10 years younger than himself, he hadn't been able to sleep since hearing that Kurt was in the hospital. And Burt Hummel needed to know that something had happened to Kurt as soon as possible.

"Sure. Do you know how Kurt's doing? Why is he in the hospital?"

"I found him being" there was a pause "beaten up by a couple of mindless jocks in an alleyway, and called 911. I've been trying to contact his parents since then." Will got out of bed. For some reason, Jesse had never been the one he expected to get this call from.

"Do you know how he's doing?"

"I have a receptionist checking. There she is." Jesse hung up.

"Sir?" The nurse looked grave. "Your friend has a sprained wrist, a concussion and two cracked ribs, in addition to several severe bruises and minor cuts. He has been raped, as you stated when bringing him in, but the perpetrators were unable to ah, fully complete the deed. We have him on strong medication so it'll be a while before he wakes up, but you're welcome to stay with him." She looked at him sympathetically.

Jesse nodded and followed her into Kurt's room. He was cleaned up, and only hooked to one wire. That was comforting.

"Thank you ma'am." Jesse shot her a smile. "Let me just call his parents."

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring. _

_Ring._

"_Jesse St. James again. The full details on what happened to Kurt would be better stated in person, but he's not in any sort of mortal danger. William Schuester has been sent to wake you up, should he for some reason fail and you receive this in the morning, hurry. Please." _

**St. Hummel ftw**

Will banged his fist on the Hummel's door. It had taken him a long time to find their new house, and he had a sinking feeling that he was late.

"Mr. Schue?" Finn opened the door and stared at him blearily. "Dude, it's like 3am, and I'm totally going to do that Spanish essay…"

"This isn't about the essay Finn. Go wake up Burt." Finn shrugged and lumbered upstairs. Will awkwardly stood in the hallway, glancing over the photographs on the wall.

The Hudmel wedding. Finn dressed as a zombie, looking triumphant as he held up a trophy. Kurt, looking smug as he modeled a snugly fitted sweater. Kurt and Burt in front of Hummel's Auto Shop, this time both greasy and holding tools.

"Schuester? What's wrong?" Burt was in his sweatpants and a t shirt, and Carol was still drawing a bathrobe around herself. Both seemed bewildered. Will gulped.

"Kurt's in the hospital." There was dead silence. "Jesse St. James called me…he said you weren't answering your phone." Will braced himself for the twin explosions.

"The _hospita1?_"

"_Jesse St. James?"_ Carol, the only one who seemed to be rational, had lunged for the phone and was dialing voicemail.

"Kurt can't be in the hospital! He's not even in Lima, he decided to just stick around at Dalton for the weekend!" Will shrugged helplessly.

"I don't know…"

"How did Jesse get your number? And what's he doing with Kurt!"

"Finn, I don't know. He just called me, and I couldn't ignore the fact that Kurt is hurt because we carry a grudge against him." Will said wearily. Finn had began to pace, as Burt plunged into a closet.

"He's in St. Jude's Burt, it's the main hospital in Dalton Township." Carol said, her face pale. "Jesse said that he wasn't dangerously hurt, but…" Carol could sense that something bad had happened.

"Here." Burt threw her a coat. "I'm driving over." He tugged on a large overcoat and jangled his car keys.

"Finn honey, you stay here."

"No!" Carol shot Will a pleading look. Will sighed.

"I'll stay here with Finn. Could you call us when you get any word on Kurt's condition?" Finn looked slightly mollified by the promise of his favorite teacher staying around. Burt nodded as he flew out the door, Carol hurrying along in his wake.

**St. Hummel ftw**

Kurt didn't want to wake up. He was comfortable in his warm, mind numbing bubble, and something made him not want to get up and remember what had happened…but now that he was thinking, the fog was clearing and he could recall the previous night.

Going into town with Blaine. Blaine going off with his boyfriend, and a grateful smile to Kurt for agreeing to go with him as a cover story, so Wes and David wouldn't mock him or interrupt his date. Walking back to Dalton, wondering morosely what it would be like to actually go on a date.

Those other boys. Being cornered and hit and…Kurt's eyes flew open.

He was in a sterile-smelling room, on crisp white sheets and hooked up to an IV. A hospital then. Good, he had been sure he felt a rib crack when the tall one kicked his side. How did he get here?

Somehow, Kurt doubted that one of his attackers had called an ambulance after he blacked out. He peered around the room. It was a standard hospital room, the type which brought back bad memories of his mother.

Except for the fact that Jesse St. James was sitting in a chair beside the bed. He was leaning back in the chair, with his chin resting on his chest and arms crossed. If one put a desk in front of him, he could have been at McKinley. Jesse was even in the same leather jacket he often wore.

Not that Kurt had gotten into the habit of gazing at him in French class and noting what he did.

"Jesse! What, exactly, are you doing in my hospital room?" Jesse woke with a start. He instantly scrutinized Kurt, eyes going right to the bandages wrapped around his chest.

"Are you feeling alright?" Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I feel so wonderful, I checked myself into the hospital just because I missed the smell." Jesse snorted. It had been an idiotic question, more prompted by worry than a proper thought process.

"I beg to differ. I called 911 after finding you trapped in an alley." Kurt quickly pushed away the memories threatening to surface. "Of course, your parents have been called."

"My thanks. I suppose that a request to know why you were in Dalton would not be out of line?" Jesse raised his eyebrows.

"You're certainly nosy. I storm in as a night in shining armor, and instead I'm greeted with instant suspicion." Kurt raised one eyebrow back at him.

"I'd like a guarantee that I won't end up in a parking lot, my clothing egg stained." Jesse's cheeks flushed. Only a little bit because Jesse St. James didn't blush, ever.

"I was just passing through, looking for some action. And despite the belief New Directions has about my being the devil incarnate, I wasn't about to walk away from a boy who was trapped in an alley." Kurt avoided his eyes. Jesse sighed, wishing he hadn't brought up that particular topic. "And what are you doing two hours from Lima?"

"I go to Dalton." Jesse really, really, wanted to ask why. Admittedly he knew almost nothing about Kurt, but he was proving to be interesting to speak with. But the look on Kurt's face said that the topic was not going to be one he should broach.

"Fair enough. But seriously." Jesse leaned forward, his brown eyes turning intense. "Next time you decided to wander around in a homophobic town at night, consider bringing a friend. Or at least a fucking _phone._" Kurt glared at him.

"I _was_ going to be with a friend but he ditched. Coming from Lima, I do have some survival instincts!" Kurt scowled. Then the full extent of what Jesse had said registered.

"They stole my phone?"

Jesse chuckled. He couldn't help it. "You get assaulted by a group of homophobic bastards, and the thing which pisses you off the most is losing your phone?"

"I had a wealth of blackmail on that phone. I had over a hundred contacts. It has served me faithfully and without stop, toiling on through tiny pockets and rainy days…" Kurt continued his lament for his phone as Jesse laughed. He hadn't laughed so hard in months.

And all in a hospital. How twisted life was.

**St. Hummel ftw**

They had moved on from stolen phones to Wicked vs. Avenue Q when Burt burst into the room, frantically looking around and immediately enveloping Kurt in a hug. Jesse rose and stepped back, as a woman he assumed was Mrs. Hudmel joined in the embrace.

"Dad, dad, I'm fine. Just a little banged up." Burt drew back a bit and examined his son, the panic in his eyes giving way to worry. Carol perched herself on Jesse's chair and held Kurt's hand.

"Oh dear…"

"We're going to find those bastards." Burt muttered. "I'll sue. I swear to god, I'll land those boys in jail for so long they're going to wish they'd never even thought of touching you."

"Dad." Kurt's voice was a bit strained. Jesse found himself feeling unnaturally worried. "We can't afford to sue. And it was dark, I never even saw their faces." Burt whirled on Jesse.

"You! You're that Jesse kid, what were you doing with my son?" Jesse restrained the sarcastic comment. Burt just wanted someone to be furious with.

"I heard him call out and drove off his aggressors, then called an ambulance. Since then I have been attempting to contact you, until exhaustion and jetlag caught up with me and I fell asleep." Kurt stared at him over his dad's head, trying to convey some message. "I'm afraid that I didn't see the boys faces either."

Kurt relaxed and mouthed "thank you" at him.

"Oh. Thank you." Burt sighed. "If there's anything at all I can do to repay you, just call the house. You've done more for us than you can possibly imagine."

Looking at Carol's hand over Kurt's and the expression on Burt's face, Jesse got a fair idea. A bit of bitterness curled around his mouth as he thought of the empty house waiting for him.

"It was what any good person would do. I'll be going." Jesse nodded to Kurt and escaped the building. He'd done his good deed for the year, no need to stick around inside that somewhat terrifying bubble of familial caring.

_A/N: Well? I haven't posted anything in the glee fandom for a long, long, time, so reviews would be much appreciated! I'd rather not have any flames since I'm currently in Florida, but at least I have an ocean right next to me to douse them in. _

_Also, posting this now because it was written on that drive to Florida while Kurt was at Dalton, and I was going to wait until I had a second chapter written so I knew I'd be able to post another one fairly quickly, but now that Kurt's back at McKinley I thought I should post before all of Dalton became a vague memory._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! And for the people who didn't review but instead just story alerted…it's okay. I love you too J

And I'm actually scared to watch the "Jesse comes back" episode. If they screw with my St. Hummel mood imma be MAD.

Disclaimer: I don't own this show. You can tell by how Jesse hasn't proposed yet.

_This was hell. Pure, simple, hell. A punishment for egging Rachel, or for breaking up with Jake, or for ignoring that old lady who needed help crossing the street when he was late for rehearsal. _

"_Okay Beth. Let's get those diapers changed." He grimaced and the hellion wailer louder. Jesse must have been out of his mind when he told Shelby that he'd babysit Beth for a night. _

_It didn't matter how angelically the brat could smile up at her innocent victims. Behind her blonde hair and blue eyes lurked a demon. A drooling, pooping, hair-grabbing, separation anxiety infused, demon. Jesse was definitely_ never having children.

He gingerly set her down on the changing table. Beth's howls had abated somewhat, leaving Jesse to conclude she knew being on the changing table meant her soggy diaper would be replaced. Why not. Even demons were capable of deductive reasoning.

Which Jesse would have to employ. Diapers on the right side of the table, a trash can on the floor, and a little box of wipes next to the diapers.

Hmm…There must be some proper way to go about this.

He was lost. Beth's wails became a degree louder, making Jesse cringe. Good God she would be a sensation on Broadway. Perhaps they could perform together, if she stopped ruining his hearing.

That decided things. No baby would ruin his perfect pitch hearing and thus destroy his career. If he could win 4 national titles he could defeat a _baby_. Jesse neatly put her on her back, took off her diaper, and changed her all within 30 seconds.

That was his plan. Instead Jesse realized that he had no idea how a diaper came off. The thing seemed to be one solid covering. After minutes of painful fumbling about, the diaper came off.

Jesse gagged. He had to _clean_ that. That muck had to come off her backside (and front side, for that matter) needed to be mopped up. He shuddered and went for a wipe, averting his face.

Nearly ten awful, awkward, moments later, it was over. Jesse was quivering with relief-Beth hadn't crapped on his hands and had stopped crying.

"There, hellion. Now just…be still. I need to wash my hands." He edged his way over to the sink, keeping one eye on Beth. Shelby warned him that she was crawling speedily, and he wouldn't put it past the fiend to vanish when his back was turned.

Beth just gurgled happily and kicked. Still eying her warily, Jesse dried his pants and determined that it would be fine if he just let her wander around pantless. The effort of putting a pair of pants on her was simply too much.

"Jeh!" Jesse groaned. He picked Beth up and placed her on the floor next to the large stuffed panda. The things Shelby bought for this kid…"Jeh!"

"What now?" Beth stared up at him, enormous blue eyes starting to fill with tears. "Shit."

"Shit!" Beth said. She laughed as soon as she saw the look of horror on Jesse's face. Jesse swore in his head. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"No, hellion, stop saying that." Jesse glared at her. She giggled.

"Shit!" Jesse buried his face in his hands. Shit, indeed-when Shelby came home to find that he had taught her beloved baby swearwords, she would murder him. No matter that it was a relatively mild word compared to the rest of his vocabulary, pointing that out would only get him in further trouble. When Shelby was pissed, she went on a warpath.

Admittedly, that had saved Jesse's ass several times. But he had no desire to hear her voice, however impressive, yelling at him.

"Helli-Beth! Let's go…" Jesse frantically looked around. "play with blocks!"

"Shit blocks!" Jesse resisted the urge to laugh. According to Shelby's wealth of parenting books, that would only encourage her.

"No Beth. That would be very painful." Jesse smiled at her, exuding charm. Perhaps the same techniques he used on older girls would distract her.

"Shit Jeh!" He gritted his teeth.

"For you, that's anatomically impossible. Assuming you meant the very, very, bad word as a verb not an insult." Beth cocked her head. "How about we sing now?"

**St. Hummel eventually**

Shelby let herself in at around midnight. She wasn't tipsy (knowing that at some point during the morning there would be loud wailing made the hangover not worth it) but almost wished she was. Beth had the potential to be rather difficult, and Jesse knew next to nothing about small children.

Then again, he did get her to turn the entire house upside down on a frantic search for the tiny scrap of paper Will Schuester's phone number was written on. With Beth sobbing as background music. Jesse _had _known he was going to owe her an enormous favor. So really this was just some form of karmic justice.

The house was completely silent. Shelby poked her head into the living room, expecting to see a scene resembling the aftermath of a bomb strike.

It was about as she expected. There were toys scattered around the floor, dirty dishes stacked up on the coffee table-Jesse must have tried to placate her with food-and several pieces of damp paper towel lying about.

Her star himself was sprawled on the couch, apparently dead. Shelby had to giggle at the sight of the tall teenager, his bare feet propped up on one armrest and his head on the other, one arm flung across his eyes. It was a very theatrical pose.

"It's impolite to stare." Shelby smiled as Jesse removed the arm from over his eyes and glared at her. "Tell me the truth-did you work out a deal with the devil for that monster?"

"Do try to restrain the ire Jesse, that's my daughter you're talking about." He returned the arm to it's former position. Shelby rolled her eyes at the now woeful position. "She's a very sweet girl."

"I've had to sing sesame street songs for three hours straight, because you said you didn't want her watching too much TV. _Sesame Street songs._" Shelby grinned. She missed having Jesse constantly hanging around her house.

"I'm sure it was good for you. I doubt you've been practicing as much now that you're in college." Jesse shrugged. It was true he could no longer fit six solid hours of vocals into his routine, but he had managed about four per day by cutting out sleep. "Besides, you brought this upon yourself."

"Yup." Jesse got up. "Well, time to crash."

"Oh? I was hoping I could ask about Kurt." Jesse shot her an odd look. "It is after all, for his sake that you endured my little angel for an entire evening."

"I wasn't going to leave some kid alone getting hurt." Shelby paused, sure that there was something Jesse wasn't telling her. But he was far too stubborn to talk to her unless he felt like he needed her guidance. That wasn't often, and usually only pertained to show choir.

**St. Hummel ftw**

Jesse did enjoy college. He had a bunch of drama classes, all of which were disgustingly easy, and the UCLA campus was simply gorgeous. Well, at least compared to Lima it was.

Unfortunately, he was obliged to also take several classes for subjects he was less adept in. Grades had never been an enormous issue at Carmel, despite the vigorous schedule, but at Carmel there was an understanding amongst the teachers.

Vocal Adrenaline brought in most of the donations from the board. It was required for students to be passing to participate in extra curricular activities. Jesse was the star of Vocal Adrenaline.

_Nobody_ would dare fail Jesse St. James. And of course, Shelby would have his ass if he ever got below a B. Worse, she'd tell his parents. Jesse could work 4 hours of studying and 6 hours of rehearsal into his schedule without much trouble.

None of his professors here were going to cut him any slack. Jesse found almost all his time occupying by either studying or practicing vocals and choreography. It was vastly irritating to not be surrounding by students not as highly motivated as himself, therefore he had no time for those friends.

Friends were for the weak. And those who had mental space which could be taken up by inconsequential things. Jesse did _not_ have such space.

Which really, really, sucked, because he kept thinking about Kurt. It would not do to be wondering about Kurt while he was trying to take notes about the History of Leonardo Davinci.

And it would especially not do to be thinking about Kurt while he was attempting to sleep. It was enormously irritating to not be able to sleep when he was dead tired, because he was _worrying_ about some stinking _boy_ he'd met _once._

He had to resolve this nagging feeling as soon as possible. Jesse cleared his schedule for fifteen minutes (an enormous concession, and thank god his theater professor was enamored of him and would forgive him for being later than usual), and dedicated the time to figuring out how to check up on Kurt.

Now, how to go out this? Jesse, sitting cross legged on his bed, laptop balancing on his knees, pondered the question. Calling William Schuester and demanding a way to contact Kurt would spread to New Directions. That club was paranoid enough without him poking them.

Rachel wasn't a viable option. She would never give him any information willingly. He didn't particularly want to talk to her either.

No, Jesse St. James was certainly not feeling guilty. Not at all. She'd probably recovered from being betrayed and egged quite easily.

Facebook. Jesse searched Kurt Hudmel, wishing he had bothered to friend the New Directions people. He had almost 3,000 friends, and somehow he'd forgotten about them.

Damn. Apparently Kurt didn't have a facebook. Which was odd, because he would have sworn that from the little he knew of the boy, he'd be online. Jesse sighed and considered his options.

Of course. Kurt attended Dalton. His cousin Blaine also attended Dalton. Blaine was a friendly person, there was a good chance he would have befriended anyone who came to Dalton in a slightly out of the norm way.

It was awesome having familial connections. Jesse smirked and began to type out his email.

_From: 4nationaltitlesbitchgmail_

_To: DapperYoungMangmail_

_Subj: Don't you dare procrastinate about answering_

_Blaine,_

_Yes, yes, I didn't come see you. Something came up. Sorry. More relevant, do you know a kid named Kurt? Light brown hair, blue-green eyes, probably transferred relatively recently? _

_Additionally; good performance at sectionals, but it would be complimented by some actual dancing. For heaven's sake, bobbing and stepping does not win you championships. _

_~Jesse_

_To: 4nationaltitlesbitchgmail_

_From: DapperYoungMangmail_

_Subj: …this is one of the stranger emails from you I've received_

_Okay, the unwarranted advice about my show choir I expected. How many times to I have to point out that it's a _style._ And Dalton actually has academics to focus on, nobody has time for those daily 5 hour rehearsals you need so you can dash around stage being Freddy Mercury. _

_But Kurt? He's a coffee friend of mine, I met him before he transferred, how do you know him? He's also been rather mopey lately. You had better not be connected to that. _

_Blaine_

Jesse raised his eyebrows. So Blaine didn't know what had happened to Kurt. Startling, considering Blaine's "coffee friends" were typically close to him. And Blaine definitely wasn't lying about Kurt, the kid couldn't lie for his life. Kurt on the other hand…that would be a fascinating thing to observe.

After all, he was somehow hiding cracked ribs. And had thought up a believable story for the bruises. This grew more intriguing by the minute. Jesse had completely forgotten that he set out trying to put Kurt from his mind.

Well Jesse certainly wasn't giving out the details of Kurt's ordeal. That was private. Jesse could respect privacy.

_To: DapperYoungMangmail_

_From: 4nationalstitlesbitchgmail_

_Subj: Why do you automatically suspect me?_

_I met him about a couple weeks ago when I was in town, and he seemed sort of down. I'm allowed to be concerned for a person's welfare._

Jesse's brow furrowed. He wasn't often concerned about anyone's welfare unless they were in VA and therefore impacted the team.

Then again, he'd never seen someone in such bad shape as Kurt had been.

_To: 4nationalstitlesbitchgmail_

_From: DapperYoungMangmail_

_Subj: Yeah, right_

_You're concerned about a random stranger. I suppose miracles do happen. Kurt's fine, he's just a bit down in the dumps. I think he misses New Directions. _

_For the record, I only give out this information because you are no longer a member of Vocal Adrenaline. I don't buy for a second that you don't have an ulterior motive. _

Jesse had to snicker when he read the last sentence. Having an ulterior motive was ingrained you as a St. James, and it was reinforced to a ridiculous extent as Shelby's protégé.

More to the point, it was clear that Blaine would not be a helpful source of information for how Kurt was doing. Actually doing, not what his showface was. Jesse checked his calendar.

There was a school holiday coming up soon. Thanksgiving…hmm. What a perfect excuse to be at Dalton, picking up Blaine. As soon as he was there it wouldn't be hard to find Kurt; Jesse was a master of "accidentally" bumping into people.

Plan made, Jesse put Kurt out of his mind.

_Reviews make quicker updates. I felt kinda iffy about this chapter but I want to figure out what's going to happen before the "Jesse is back" episode airs and my brain stops. Cause seriously, that's what's going to happen. _


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: It came to me…a great realization…both of my St. Hummel stories are set waaay in the past. None of the latest glee episodes have any impact on my plot structure! Of course, I don't buy that Jesse is a brainless pretty boy. We already like, 3 of those on glee. I think he's working for Sue. And that Kurt is going to be a BAMF and work that out, then Jesse will bribe him not to tell with sexy times, and that will develop into luuurve and they'll go to New York and rule the broadway world, eventually branching off into TV, Movies, and Fashion. Then Jesse will set up an animal shelter. _

_I like my reality better than the St. Berry/Finchel drama that 1000000000000000000 dollars says is going to end up happening._

_Disclaimer: If I owned glee, Jesse would've done that whole Adele song by himself, because he nailed it. I'd totally forgotten how impressive **The Groff** is._

_I would have responded to reviews the normal way, but Ffnet won't let me. That Bitch._

_Hazins: Yay for meeting new St. Hummel fans! It always makes me happy to know that someone else supports my OTP_

_KurtFabulous: D'awwww, thanks. I think that's how it is, Kurt's pretty private (the whole let's not mention death threats thing), and I can't imagine him wanting to share something like that with anybody he didn't have to._

_Dear Near Scary: Thanks! I love those two being like family, no idea why. I just…do. _

_LoUd-L…I'm sorry, your full name confuzzles me. I shall call you the epic episode namer. : LOL nice episode name! Should the opportunity come up, I'm nominating you for the person who does the glee-winds._

_REJ624: I think Kurt probably would have taken a leave of absence while the cracked rib healed enough for him to be up and around, then lied to people about his head wound. And I think he'd also do everything he could to keep the story out of the papers, thus no Burt reporting. He also claims not to have seen their faces, so he wouldn't be able to give the police much to go on. And because I am the all powerful author, what I think goes! Muahahaha! Thanks for reviewing, hope I don't sound totally insane. I appreciate it whenever people point out iffy things, I can put it on my list of things to cover next chapter._

_Syl: Thanks! Personally I'm tired of Klaine, it's adorable onscreen but fails to capture me when not._

_Elanor: Thanks! I didn't lose my muse after the episode so much as tried to work on other stuff and failed. _

_And to all the people who faved/story alerted but didn't review…I still love you. I can't not. But I would love you more if you reviewed. Just sayin'_

Jesse had read all of the Harry Potter books. He'd patiently listened to Blaine yap on about the chemistry between Harry and Draco versus Harry and Ginny versus Harry and Cho versus Harry and Cedric. Well perhaps he didn't fully listen, but he nodded and smiled.

He'd grinned in smug satisfaction when he saw the Dumbledore was gay. He'd even gone to see the seventh movie, taking valuable time to fight through hoards of people for a good seat.

And of course, he knew that Blaine went to gay Hogwarts.

Hogwarts. Where staircases reversed directions and there were invisible rooms and moving portraits. He'd never properly appreciated just how hard it might be to find one irritating kid in a place like that.

"Goddammit." Jesse muttered, upon finding that the strange random corridor opened up into one more corridor full of tables. Tables, and a few random couches with curious scuff marks on the arms and back.

What the hell did they use all these random furniture rooms for anyway?

The "bump into Kurt" plan would be a fail if Jesse couldn't even find his way to the dorm rooms. Asking Blaine would be an invitation for mockery. Jesse retraced his steps, searching for a student who would know where Kurt was.

Jesse homed in on Wes Nyugen. Senior Council Member, somewhat controlling, one of the ones who choreographed the frighteningly synchronized numbers the Warblers bobbed to. Vocal Adrenaline's Intel (which he had not stolen, that freshman totally could have refused to give it to him. He wouldn't have actually kicked him off the team) said that Wes wasn't a threat.

He'd probably know who Jesse was.

"Excuse me, would you know where Kurt Hummel can be found?" Wes jumped, stared, then went on to what was inevitably the next step in Jesse's relationships with other captains. He glared. Jesse smiled in response.

"The warblers are far past your attempts at sabotage and intimidation, leave now." For a brief second, Jesse wished he wasn't a show choir legend.

Where the hell did _that_ come from?

"I'm actually in college right now. No sabotage, I promise." Jesse's mouth was starting to hurt. Wes obviously didn't believe him, but the showface was going to make the warbler crack. It always worked.

"What do you want with Kurt?" Jesse fought desire to roll his eyes. At least the warblers were protective of Kurt.

"We're acquainted through previous show choir experience. I come in peace." Wes eyed him for a few more moments with suspicion, but the guilelessly charming expression won out.

"He booked one of our music rooms. Room 232, go down the corridor, take a right, up the stairs, take a left, 4th door on the right." Jesse thanked him and trotted down the corridors, trying to keep the directions straight in his head.

Goddamn gay Hogwarts. Most places you could just follow room numbers.

Eventually, Jesse found his way to the music wing. He prowled towards room 232, figuring out his speech on his way over.

_Hey, I was picking up my cousin and I thought I'd check up on you. _That didn't sound stalkerish at all. Jesse could direct the conversation towards musicals, check out Kurt's mental state, and leave knowing that the kid was absolutely fine.

Jesse pushed open the door to the music room. The sound of a piano stopped him dead in his tracks. He never, ever, interrupted someone performing. Except to do random duets.

"_She walks to school with the lunch she packed_

_Nobody knows what she's holding back_

_Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday_

_She hides the bruises with linen and lace, oh"_

What in the world? Jesse poked his head in, frowning. That was quite possibly the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard. No way did the Warblers have that kind of voice in their ensemble.

Apparently, they did. There was _Kurt_, sitting at the piano with his back to the door, singing in a voice Jesse would classify as angelic.

Those warblers were actually insane. That voice would have won them regionals.

"_Through the wind, and the rain_

_She stands hard as a stone, _

_In a world that she can't rise above_

_But her dreams give her wings, _

_and she flies to a place where she's loved_

_Concrete angel"_

Jesse closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him. Kurt was hitting the right notes, in a sweet, pain filled tone. For once in his life Jesse ignored the analyzation of a performance and just listened.

"_The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask_

_It's hard to see the pain behind the mask_

_Bearing the burden of a secret storm_

_Sometimes she wishes she was never born"_

Poor Kurt. Jesse flinched at the raw hurt in the other boy's voice as he sang. As beautiful as this rendition was, no one should sound like that.

"_Somebody cries in the middle of the night_

_The neighbors hear but they turn out the light_

_A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate_

_When morning comes it'll be too late"_

Kurt stopped singing. Jesse stepped into the room, softly singing the last verse. If Kurt wouldn't compare himself to an angel, Jesse would.

"_A statue stands in a shaded place_

_An angel boy with an upturned face_

_A name is written on a polished rock_

_A broken heart that the world forgot"_

Kurt started violently, but sung the remaining chorus with Jesse out of instinct. And because, Jesse thought with a stir of pride, true future legends never leave a performance unfinished.

"_Through the wind, and the rain_

_She stands hard as a stone, _

_In a world that she can't rise above_

_But her wings give her wings, _

_and she flies to a place where she's loved_

_Concrete angel"_

Kurt rested his hands in his lap. "Does it not occur to you that being in a closed room means that I want privacy?" His eyes met Jesse's in a challenging glare.

"I came to check up on you. I wanted to make sure you were okay." Kurt raised his eyebrows.

"Obviously, I'm fine. Goodbye." Jesse walked into the room, and leaned against the piano.

"I'm not asking you to talk about your feelings or anything Kurt. But since I'm here anyway, I thought I would make sure you were okay."

"You said that already." Jesse blinked. Crap. He hadn't been this not smooth since before joining Vocal Adrenaline. "Surely you realize that I know nothing of New Directions, and that the Warblers are hardly a threat."

"They would be if you were singing that onstage. Even if the warblers insisted on bobbing and weaving in the background." Jesse leaned forward, honestly curious. "Why aren't you in a front spot?"

"I auditioned. I was too emotional." Jesse shook his head slowly. "I'm not going to be joining Vocal Adrenaline anytime soon, if that's what you're after."

"Don't." Jesse was shocked at the vehemence in his own voice. "They're the best of course. But I don't think you're a proper fit."

"Then what, exactly, are you here for." Jesse hesitated. He wasn't entirely sure anymore.

"I really was concerned for you. Are you going home for vacation?" Kurt propped his elbows on the piano.

"I want to. But Dad will be protective, and Carol will keep looking at me like I'm going to break, and Finn will be Finn…" Kurt just shrugged. "It will be nice to see Mercedes and Quinn again."

"I assume they aren't in the loop?" Kurt shook his head minutely. "Then don't sing in front of them."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That anyone listening in could hear pain in your voice. And if you're trying to divert awkwardness, the best way to do it isn't letting people in like that."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Jesse had to admire a person who could flip conversation around that neatly. He chose to ignore the barb. "Yes, it does get a tad awkward around my family and friends."

"Well, if you need someone to distract you," Jesse took out a sharpie and scrawled his number on Kurt's sheet music. "Call me."

Kurt dubiously looked at the messy writing. "Excusing your atrocious penmanship, what am I supposed to tell people about randomly vanishing?"

"Tell them" Jesse leaned closer to Kurt "That you've got a hot date." Jesse walked from the room, leaving the absolutely silent Kurt Hummel to make what he would of the offer.

And to contemplate the wisdom in asking out a boy who had emotional issues, when Jesse himself didn't do permanent relationships.

**St. Hummel : D**

Kurt tried to ignore Finn. He was quite happy being able to hang out in the kitchen and cook again. It was a wonderful way to relieve stress.

Or it would be if Finn wasn't lurking around the doorway.

"Finn, I'm not making you brownies. Dad will raid them and he has doesn't need the calories."

"Oh. Sorry dude." Kurt gritted his teeth and returned to the soufflé.

Two minutes later, Finn had returned to his lurking.

"Finn, what do you want?"

"Just a drink of water." Kurt closed his eyes and counted to ten as Finn lumbered in and filled up a glass. He took almost five minutes, lingering over his selection of cups and adjusting water temperature.

Kurt put away his utensils. He methodically emptied and washed the bowl formerly contained the beginnings of a soufflé, while Finn filled up a glass again.

Kurt then fled to his room, where the internet and it's realms of distraction waited.

In three minutes, Kurt knew for a fact that his step brother would be a terrible ninja. He'd tripped twice coming up the stairs to stand in front of Kurt's door, and now was constantly shifting his weight.

For ten minutes Kurt did his best to research the new Gucci collection and ignore the heavy breathing from outside his door. After the third time Finn raised his fist to knock and then stopped, Kurt's patience snapped.

"_What_ do you want Finn?"

"Nothing. Are you going to make breakfast tomorrow?" Finn replied, his voice muffled by the door.

Kurt sighed. "Yes. Now please leave?"

Finn's footsteps retreated down the stairs. Kurt waited two minutes.

Sure enough, the quarterback's footsteps could be heard clumping back up the stairs. Kurt rested his head on his arms.

"Finn, I can hear you. Come into the room if you want something." Finn hesitantly opened the door.

"What's up dude?" Kurt lifted his head up just enough to glare at the frankenteen.

"Are you going to keep doing this for all of Thanksgiving break?" The taller teen sat down on Kurt's bed.

"Doing what?" He examined Kurt's new sweater, obviously not meeting Kurt's eyes. Kurt got up and snatched it away.

"Paws off. That's my new Ralph Lauren. And I mean are you going to keep hanging around just outside whatever room I'm in, obviously avoiding my presence while at the same time being a creeper?" Finn frowned, working that out in his mind.

"No, dude! I'm just looking out for you."

"Finn. This is my home. I am perfectly safe here." Finn began picking threads from Kurt's blanket. "Finn!"

"What?" Kurt rubbed his forehead.

"Leave my room. Do not loiter around my door. Go hang out with Puck." Finn obediently left. Kurt sighed, relieved to not have a stalker anymore.

It took about five seconds for the text to show up.

_Kurt- Mer n I r gonna get 2 bredstix. U in?_

_- AsianSexSymbol_

_Boy, get ur ass outside. U+me+Tina=Bredstix _

_-NextBeyonce_

Kurt chuckled and grabbed the new sweater. Sure enough, there was a car pulling up to the house. He stopped for a second to scribble a note for his dad telling him that he was with Mercedes and Tina at Breadstix, then hurried out the door.

The dinner was enjoyable. Kurt only picked at his food, somehow uncomfortable. Mercedes and Tina were wonderful as always, bickering about whether or not Mike's abs beat Taylor Lautner's.

Kurt was about to point out that Mike's abs were superior for the simple reason that Mike could dance and Lautner embodied the Twilight franchise, making him lesser in all ways, when something made him freeze. Like someone was staring at his back.

He twisted around to stare around the restaurant. Puck and Lauren were in a corner feeding each other, their waitress was catering to someone, there was nobody else he recognized…Kurt swallowed.

He had rather hoped going insane would feel more like seeing the newest fashion news, not like there was an itch between his shoulder blades.

_A/N: I'm still unsatisfied with this, dammit. Tell me your thoughts. Please?_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I updated! Yay! Sorry for the longish wait, but this is finals month. (read: hellmonth) and I have other concerns. I love the people of ffnet, but I'm afraid I love not failing a bit more._

_I dedicate this chapter to Sofiajedi. Well actually all my writing is sort of dedicated to her in my brain because she's my helpful responds-to-emails-at-1am-about-minor-details BFFL, but I decided to make it official now. _

_REJ624: Thanks! Finn is adorable, even if he tends to really, really, really, piss me off._

_Essence of Magic: I'm glad you liked. Worry not, Blaine will be worked in. I plan on having some fun with that…_

_Lcubed: …how in the world did I not figure that out? Gotta not read reviews at 1am…ROTLFLMAO I could so see Jesse at pigfarts. Riding a lion and having tea with Dumbledore. If we weren't conversing by way of review, I would hug you for putting that image in my head. So virtual glomps to thou._

_frenziedmuse: Excellent! This couple is so sadly underused…_

_Sam: Thanks for reviewing! They would be amazing together…_

_Tree Kangaroo: Happy to hear you like it! I feel that reading fan fiction late at night is often more rewarding that sleep. Who needs sleep? (To quote the barenaked ladies)_

_Coldandwarm: Yay, you thought Jesse was in character! He can be an absolute bitch to write. _

Jesse always found there were two types of thanksgivings. There were the ones when his parents were home, and they awkwardly ate in silence. He had developed his perfect poker face through these dinners.

There were the "family gatherings", when Blaine and his parents were all in attendance and Blaine's father was shooting Jesse and Blaine nervous looks. Those were vaguely funny, if only because Blaine's father jumped whenever Jesse made a comment that had even the barest hint of gay innuendo, and Jesse enjoyed practicing his skills in psychological torture.

Then there were thanksgivings like this one. Jesse sat on his couch, watching South Park and eating duck out of pure defiance at tradition. Neither of his parents had bothered to fly in from Madrid, and Blaine's relations with his father were strained enough at the moment.

Plus, Uncle Anderson was still miffed that Jesse was bisexual and hadn't bothered to tell him until he was in the middle of asking Jesse to talk to Blaine about why he was really only going through a phase. Admittedly they were on better terms now, but Jesse wasn't good with family situations anyway.

He'd _rather_ be at home alone.

**Line break**

Kurt never understood thanksgiving. He appreciated the idea behind it. A special day to be grateful for your family and friends was a wonderful idea. But what was appealing about being unable to move, and then watching football the whole afternoon?

Burt was sprawled in his easy chair, in a food coma. Finn and Carol took the couch, glued to the game. Kurt shifted restlessly, bored out of his mind. Despite the appeal of muscular boys rolling around in mud, none of these players were his type. And really, who designed those uniforms?

Please. They desperately needed some pizzaz. Which was something Kurt wouldn't mind, because this whole "sit and watch family in food comas" business was truly boring. He scrolled through his phone absently.

Jesse's number. Which he had, despite common sense's arguments, put into his contacts. Kurt's thumb hovered over it. If Jesse had been serious, that would be a fantastic way to get out of the house, away from the beer and chips and yells at the television.

No. He was not going there. He was not going to be idiotic enough to text a proven traitor, just because he was bored. Besides, it was thanksgiving. Jesse was probably doing family things.

**Line break**

It didn't take long for the "not going there" reasoning to die. Kurt was sick of Finn belching, and sick of the smell of chips and beer. Also, Burt had invited over all of his garage friends. Kurt liked the guys who worked at the garage. He'd known them since a very young age. But that didn't mean he liked listening to them holler at the television.

The only consolation was that his ten layer chip dip was an enormous success. Kurt retreated to the kitchen to make more and wash the dishes. He didn't even have Carole to talk to, because she was arguing with some guy about whether or not Big Ben Roethlisberger could kick Tom Brady's ass.

Kurt reminded himself that there were worse sob stories. None of the people in that room wanted to kill him, that was a plus. But for some reason, just sitting in that room, with all those people, and all that noise, and people in front of all the doors, made him uncomfortable. Kurt chose to ignore the implications of that in favor of simply retreating to the kitchen.

He didn't want to text one of the girls. They had all been demanding to know why he was feeling less than fabulous. It just depressed Kurt that it was _that_ obvious he wasn't feeling great, and made hanging out with his friends far less appealing.

So, Jesse would work. Kurt picked up his phone.

_Roethlisberger vs. Brady: Who wins?_

**Line break**

Jesse managed to not fist pump when Kurt texted him. He only resisted the urge because he had no idea who the hell these people were.

**Line break**

_Who? _Kurt snickered.

_Football players. Superbowls on. _Kurt began melting cheese. A roar of noise came from the living room. Kurt stepped out of the kitchen.

"What happened?"

"Brilliant pass by Brady!" Kurt frowned.

"Weren't we cheering for Pittsburg?" Burt waved him off, his eyes once again glued to the screen.

_Football is not my forte. I'm not even sure who's playing. _Kurt had to smirk. So he wasn't the only one. Seriously, even Mercedes was glued to a television.

_Steelers vs. Patriots. I don't know why everyone cares, it's not like it's Ohio. Nor can I figure out who I'm supposed to be rooting for. _Kurt responded.

_The cutthroat ad war is entertaining at times. Other than the pointlessness of a homoerotic sport, what up? _

Kurt began stirring mayonnaise into the dip. He had never understood what about it appealed to his dad and his garage buddies, but Kurt was sure that the local cardiologist should have been giving him royalties.

_I'm making yet another batch of dip. My dad's buddies are all here :P_

_I was serious about that offer. _Kurt hesitated. Would it be terrible to Rachel if he went out with her ex?

Rachel who _made out _with Blaine. Frankly, she no longer deserved the honor code which would stop him from just having a nice, distracting, evening. It would be more fun than sticking around while his Dad moaned about not being allowed any dip.

_Could you be here tomorrow night?_

_Done. I'll pick you up at your house. _Kurt's brow furrowed as he kicked the fridge closed.

…_how do you know where I live?_

_I'm very thorough when I deceive people. I photocopied the entire glee directory. _Kurt rolled his eyes.

_And you kept it even after egging our lead soloist._

_Shutup, being a packrat is useful. I still have my program for Wicked _Lucky bastard.

_Original cast? _Kurt briefly wondered how Jesse found time to get to New York.

_Signed by Idina Menzel and Kristen Chenoweth. _Lucky, lucky, lucky, bastard.

_I may have to kill you to obtain that. _Rachel would help him. Kurt imagined that they could probably figure out where Jesse lived and ambush him outside the door, then threaten to shave his head if he didn't give up the autographs. The thought made Kurt grin.

_Bribery, charm and an excellent voice work well to woo witches._

_Are you doing this just to annoy me? Give me details! _Or they could tie him down, and interrogate him about how in the world Jesse got their signatures.

_Think of it as a trailer for tomorrow. And be sure to wear something you, I'm sick of seeing you in a Dalton uniform. It seems somehow horribly wrong. _Kurt's mouth twitched. A special occasion to plan an outfit for, he hadn't had one of those in awhile.

"Kurt! When are you going to be done with the dip?" Finn yelled.

_Will do. G2g, the people demand heart attacks. _

**Line break**

Kurt flicked his scarf over his shoulder and smirked at his reflection. He looked awesome. Tight jeans, a dark blue scarf, his new Alexander McQueen jacket, the marc Jacobs new collection shirt…Kurt twirled.

"Um, Kurt?"

"Dad." Kurt winced. No matter how amazing his father was, it was uncomfortable when he walked in as Kurt was modeling. "Like my new outfit?"

"Yeah, it's great…" Burt scratched his head. "Why do you have a new outfit?"

"I'm going out tonight, I told you." Burt frowned. Something was wrong here. His Papa Bear senses were tingling.

"Out where?"

"I don't know yet. I'm going out with a guy and he's picking me up." Burt gulped. If he didn't have prior experience, he would have thought that this was what having a heart attack was like. And having a heart attack had been much easier. "Dad?"

"A date." Kurt sighed.

"Yes dad. With a boy." Burt flailed about for a reason to object.

"Who?"

"Jesse St. James. Dad, it's nothing serious. We're just out to have some fun." Burt's expression eased. Jesse was very firmly in position on his list of awesome people.

"You'll be back by ten. And you won't go anywhere by yourself." Kurt smiled and patted his father's shoulder.

"Eleven. And I'll be _fine_. I'm not running off to California with him." Burt sputtered. Kurt glanced out his window. "There he is now. Bye dad!"

Kurt hurried down the stairs, praying that the shock of seeing his "probably wasn't going to ever get a date until college" son going out and the relief of it being a good guy (at least as far as Burt was aware) would stop his dad from meeting Jesse at the door. And then bringing out the shotgun.

Kurt opened the door, grabbed Jesse's arm, and dragged the other boy back to the driveway. Jesse chuckled and quickened his stride so he was walking with Kurt.

"Are we avoiding Finn or Burt?"

"My dad. Finn's over at Mike's house, you think I'd have let you two come anywhere near each other?"

"I'm touched that care so much for your brother's safety." Kurt glared at Jesse. It was really hard to be mad when Jesse's eyes had that humorous sparkle. Jesse opened the passenger door of the range rover.

"Dear god…" Kurt muttered as he examined the interior. "Vocal Adrenaline has way too much funding."

Jesse smirked. "We got them after winning the third consecutive national championship. A reimbursement for our efforts."

"Your team is messed up." Kurt said. "Where are we going?"

"I got us reservations at the Le Café Des Jeunes." Kurt managed to not squeak. He'd wanted to go to that restaurant since he realized that there was in fact passable foreign food in Lima. But that restaurant was also so horribly expensive Kurt was amazed it hadn't closed yet. It was also, from the reports of Quinn (whose family could afford to eat out in a swanky place once a year) nigh impossible to get into. "Don't ask questions. Simply bow to the power of the charm."

"I'm beginning to think that this rule the world business might not be bullshit."

"On the contrary, I plan to rule the broadway world and possibly have shares in television and film. Your cheerleading coach is going to be the true dictator." Jesse had only met the coach once. She'd glared at him, laughed manically, and stalked away mumbling about hair products. It was enough to make Jesse very, very, glad that he wasn't actually on the glee club's side.

"Oh, you're good at schmoozing." Kurt said with a giggle. "Sorry, she's not going to approve of you until you fix your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?" Jesse frowned. His hair was an enormous part of his appeal. Had he somehow done it up wrong? If so, somewhere an alien world was being destroyed, and more importantly, Kurt wouldn't smile as brightly as he would've. Jesse stopped the car at the light and considered the merits of looking in the rearview mirror. The constant battle between looking conceited and possibly having hair problems…

"Nothing." Kurt grinned. "Sue has a problem with curly hair."

"Traumatizing experience?" Jesse asked offhandedly.

"Would you like to walk up to her and ask?" Kurt shot back. "I rather value my life."

"I'm glad." Jesse stopped himself from commenting on the fact that Kurt still walked home, alone, at night, in a homophobic town. "Here."

"Oh my god." Kurt breathed. Jesse tossed his keys to a _valet_ (there was a restaurant in Lima with valets and Kurt was going to eat there) and smirked. "Pinch me, I must be dreaming."

"Not at all." Jesse nodded to the waiter. "Table for two under St. James."

"Oui, monsieur." Kurt noted to perfect French accent with approval. "Où voulez-vous être assis?"

"Par une fenêtre, ou près d'une porte, si possible." Jesse responded. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Tu parle français?" Jesse held out his arm to Kurt.

"Mais bien sûr. C'est le language de la romance. Et la nourriture est excellente." Kurt had to agree. And he couldn't quite suppress the surge of relief when they were seated at a table next to a window, with the door in plain site. And that there was no way in hell anyone who knew Kurt would be in this restaurant.

"Do you come here often?" Kurt asked, reverting to English. Hearing Jesse speak in French was a bit…seductive. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, just one he was supremely unwilling to acknowledge.

"Shelby and I eat out to celebrate winning things. So we came in fairly often." Kurt sighed.

"You and your coach go to expensive restaurants to celebrate, and Mr. Schue can't get Figgins to pay for a bus to regionals."

"The Warblers get reasonable funding. Of course, neither of your teams have generated thousands of dollars of donations by fans of the art, so it stands to reason that your schools don't care." Jesse realized what he'd said about a second too late. "Not that your clubs aren't important for means of self expression…"

Kurt began to giggle. The giggle turned into laughter, until there were tears at the corners of his eyes. "You should have seen the expression on your face once you heard yourself!" He broke down into howls again.

"I take offense to that. Nothing about my face should induce hilarity." Jesse grumbled. Kurt recovered enough to start reading the menu. "Thank you. Now I believe, according to the doctrines of Ohio show choir strategy, that this is when I use my debonair charm to wheedle your team's secrets away."

"…Have you been talking to Blaine?"

"Only a few phone calls and a ride to his parents house." Kurt blinked.

"Blaine is your cousin." He deadpanned.

"Yes. You would know if he didn't put so much gel in his hair." Jesse shrugged. He really didn't see it as that big a deal.

"Wow. Just…I'm not sure whether to be embarrassed or amused." Jesse leaned across the table.

"Do tell."

"I just feel like I'm on the set of a bad soap opera."

"I resent that. My acting skills are in another class, though I'm not using them at present. And I'm not sure how I should react to the insult being given to my family. We're at least bad reality show level." Kurt snorted. "Now explain why I must be subjected to soap opera status."

"I fall for one cousin, who then leaves me on a street corner to meet his date, and I'm later saved by a dashing older man who is revealed to be the cousin of the dapper man who doesn't return my feelings in the least?" Kurt rolled his eyes. "Soap opera gold right there."

Jesse paused. "Blaine left you in the middle of Dalton to go out with Thad?"

"It wasn't a big deal." Jesse carefully stored that information into a little vault of his mind. The one where he kept Finn Hudson's face-the one marked "things to wreak vengeance on."

Kurt was looking uncomfortable. Jesse reminded himself that the point of this was to put Kurt in a happier mood, not guide him towards a breakdown in a nice restaurant. "Are you still interested in the tale of my getting the autographs of two major broadway stars?"

The rest of the night passed in nonawkwardness. Jesse's tale of sneaking backstage through air vents and singing half of "Dancing Through Life" in front of Idina Menzel to convince a security guard he was an understudy who'd forgotten a pass and thus impressing the star enough to get an autograph, and then lurking by a back door and bribing Kristen's driver to let him sit on the hood of the car for hours until Kristen came out and felt guilty about Jesse spending three hours in the cold night air, and thus signed his program out of pity, was probably the most inspiring thing Kurt had ever heard. Jesse was continually entertained by Kurt's vivid descriptions of various Warblers tripping while attempting to bob up and down, and even more so by the thought of Finn Hudson as Kurt's stepbrother. He was also somewhat amazed that Kurt was completely fluent in both French and Spanish, and nearly so in Korean.

The food was great. Jesse, ever gentlemanly, paid for the meal and parking, and managed to do so without making Kurt feel awkward.

Jesse even had to courtesy to walk Kurt to the door. Kurt was giggly off the French chocolate cake he'd indulged in, and sat on his porch railing rather than go inside.

"How long are you still in town?"

"I leave for UCLA tomorrow. Like I said, nothing permanent." Kurt shrugged.

"I'll friend you." Jesse smiled, leaning close to Kurt.

"Be warned, when I spam I spam hard." Kurt laughed. "I'll check in on you during Christmas Vacation."

Jesse turned to leave. Kurt coughed. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Right." Jesse took a step forward, so he was close to Kurt. "Do I have permission to kiss you, Kurt Hummel?"

"Granted." Kurt whispered. Jesse gently pressed his mouth to Kurt's, reminding himself that this was a fragile boy who he wouldn't see again for months. Kurt draped an arm over Jesse's shoulder and deepened the kiss. Jesse broke away first.

"See you in December, Kurt." Kurt slid off the railing and waved to Jesse as he walked down the driveway and got into the hulking range rover. It seemed to swallow the other teen. Kurt sighed and went back into the house, hoping that the father who'd watched all he could see from the window wouldn't ask any questions.

**Line break**

Jesse was on a mission. He drove to Blaine's house, furiously ignoring the speed limits and common sense. He wanted to talk to his cousin while he was still angry, not lock that away in his little vault for months. Admittedly, things could simmer in that vault without losing any of their potency, but Jesse wanted to deal with Blaine before he saw Kurt again.

Jesse stormed right into the Anderson house. He had a key after all, and Blaine was probably still awake. He was. Jesse stomped into Blaine's room and slammed the door behind him.

"Jesse? I know you enjoy theatricality, but this is extreme." Jesse took a deep breath, prepping himself to utterly whale on his younger cousin.

"What, exactly, were you thinking? Going out with your boyfriend, and just leaving Kurt, a prime target for harassment, on his own in a town you know perfectly well is stuffed full of testosterone minded homophobic assholes!" Blaine's mouth fell open. "You could have just left Thad until the weekend, or made him sneak into Dalton, but no, you decided to abandon your little mentee on the streets of Dalton? Your no tolerance, fishbowl of a school is not the world!"

"I know that! I didn't want to get teased about Thad, so Kurt agreed to be my cover!"

"Really? Did he realize he was going to be your cover when you took him out that night? Or did you just spring it on him and let him make his way home alone, probably without enough in his pocket for the extremely expensive cab fare in Dalton because he assumed you two would split the cost for whatever you were doing?" Jesse felt like slugging Blaine.

"It wasn't…" Blaine trailed off. "Why do you care?"

"You're talking to a master of evasion Blaine, that tactic isn't going to work. Let's focus on your terrible decisions, not my excellent intentions!"

"I didn't know he'd get beat up!" Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Oh, you didn't think that in a homophobic town someone as open and, if you'll pardon the stereotype, obvious, as Kurt, _might_ encounter a problem!" Jesse scowled at Blaine. "If you weren't the only one of my relations I can stand, and Kurt wasn't fond of you, I would be hanging you outside your window by your toes."

"I…I didn't know." Jesse glared. "I'm sorry!"

"Why don't you tell Kurt that? And try to be sincere." Blaine looked horribly guilt ridden.

Good.

"I didn't mean for anything to happen to him." Jesse shot his cousin one more murderous look. But he didn't want to hang around and hear Blaine's explanation of why it wasn't his fault.

"You didn't mean to leave Kurt on his own and defenseless? Don't even try to talk yourself into believing that this is anyone's fault but your own." Something occurred to Jesse. "And don't you _dare_ blame Kurt. He has nothing to be ashamed of here."

Blaine looked even guiltier at that. Jesse voiced went dangerously soft. "You did not tell Kurt that he should have toned it down. Don't tell me you blamed him."

"I didn't say anything." Jesse breathed in, calming himself down.

"But you thought it. Fine. Just don't say anything like that to Kurt. Ever. Or I swear, I will hunt you down and convince your mother that your allowance should be cut, and tell the new coach of Vocal Adrenaline that the Warblers are enough of a threat to warrant extreme destruction." Blaine gulped.

"You're serious."

"As The Phantom with Christine. Don't mess with Kurt's mind, he's trying to handle enough without you douching things up." Jesse decided that he'd said his piece. "See you past Christmas Blaine."

"Bye Jesse."

_A/N: It's twelve fucking forty, and I have school tomorrow. Scratch that-I have school today. Of course, I'm going to edit and revise this before posting, but still. I hope you readers understand the sacrifice. _

_And a side note: I've forgotten who played in the superbowl this year (I only watch for the halftime show, which I do remember as being very strange), so I picked the two teams I like. Who may or may not be the only teams I know anything about…_


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